


Dust

by TwoBoysInABand (orphan_account)



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood Drinking, Eventual Sex, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Supernatural Elements, Terminal Illnesses, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-05 01:37:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16358159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/TwoBoysInABand
Summary: With only a year left to live, terminally ill twenty-two year old, Tyler, opts to apply for theTurnedprogram.





	1. Chapter 1

There's a steely edge to the doctor's voice as it fades in and out of his ears. Tyler can see her lips moving, but all he can do is blink as he's being told that the tumor in his brain, is as they feared: inoperable. He's wondering how many times she's sat in that same leather chair and told someone that their life is over.

"What are his options?" He hears his mother ask.

The practiced mask of indifference momentarily slips, and Tyler doesn't miss the way her mouth turns downward. "Chemotherapy is generally the best course of action."

"And that works? Will cure it?" Kelly grabs and squeezes his hand, that's dangling between their two chairs.

The doctor closes the chart on her desk and clasps her hands together on top of it. "This type of tumor is very aggressive and usually grows back, even after several rounds of chemotherapy. I'm very sorry," she says, now looking at Tyler. "It's not curable. All we can do is try to improve your quality of life and do our best to give you as much time as possible."

"How long do I have?" The words sound foreign as they roll over his tongue.

"With glioblastomas, it's hard to say. Usually without treatment, three months. With early and aggressive treatment, there is around a thirty percent survival rate for a year."

The office falls into silence around him as the grim number takes root in his head. Kelly speaks first, "So when can he start the chemo?"

"Ideally," the doctor starts to say but Tyler interrupts her.

"What about the Turned Program? It's for terminal cases, right?"

His mother's grip on his hand tightens even more. "Tyler..."

"No. I want to know. Being a vampire can't be worse than, what, constantly being deathly sick, only to most likely die within the next few months anyway."

"Mr. Joseph." The doctor sighs. "With all due respect, the qualifications are very difficult to meet and most people do not. I can't stress how critical it is in your case, to start treatment right away. I don't recommend putting it off to pursue..."

"It seems like I'm dead no matter when I start, so I think I want to try at least."

Her lips purse. "Very well." She opens the desk drawer to the side of her and grabs two papers from it, setting one down on top of his chart and handing the other one to Tyler. "With time being of the essence, I would like to get this done and faxed today, so if you don't mind." He takes the pen from her hand and scoots his chair closer to the desk. "The application is pretty standard, but, by law I have to go over every question with you to make sure you're of sound mind and understanding."

"Fair enough." He fills out his name, age, gender, marital status and address as she moves to the first question. By the end of the application, a dull ache has started to form against his skull, and a familiar pressure, pulsing behind his eyes. "So what happens now?"

The doctor takes the paper from his hand and signs it. "If your application is approved and the background check goes well, you'll be contacted and an appointment will be made with the program's psychologist, so you can be further assessed. I'll be sure to send a note along with it stating the urgency for it to be reviewed right away."

Kelly stands up after Tyler does. "Thank you Dr. Matthews. For everything."

"Of course." She looks at Tyler. "I do wish you the best of luck and I hope to never see you again."

Tyler huffs out a laugh. "Yeah, me too. Thank you."

**

"Is Mrs. Holmes finished?" Tyler's father asks, walking through the door, grabbing a pair of latex gloves.

"Just about." Tyler stands up from the metal stool and backs away from the prep table to grab the garment bag hanging on a hook. He's just finished school for mortuary science and is working for his father at their family mortuary and funeral home. It's not a career for everyone, but after being around it his entire life, he can't imagine doing anything else.

Chris picks up the photograph that's on the table and holds it up next to her face. "You did a wonderful job. Her son will be pleased." He hands him the scissors as Tyler unzips the bag. "You leave at six for your appointment?"

"Yes sir," Tyler answers, cutting a straight line down the back of the dress. "We should have time to get Mrs. Holmes into the viewing room before then."

"Are you nervous?"

"Good question." He's asked himself the same thing for the past five days. In the face of death, most would be, but that's not what has been causing the unrelenting knot in his stomach. As much as he hoped it would happen, he didn't actually think he'd make it to the assessment and has no idea what to expect. Hours on the internet, didn't tell him anything other than how private and selective vampires are about their lives and who they invite into them.

After slipping an arm through one sleeve, Chris helps him turn the body on it's side. "I take your lack of an answer, as a yes."

"You wouldn't be wrong."

"If you're having second thoughts." Chris reaches over and places a hand on his shoulder. "You know we will support whatever decision you make. You don't have to do this if it's what you think we want."

Tyler reaches over with his free hand and places it on top of the one on his shoulder. "I know, dad. Mom already made sure to drill that into my head."

"Yes, well, that's your mother for you." He smiles and helps Tyler lift the body sled and starts sliding it across the prep table, to the casket waiting at the end of it. "Why don't you go ahead and go shower and get ready. I can take care of the rest."

After the body is placed into the casket, Tyler takes his gloves and disposable lab coat off and throws them into the garbage can. "I should be back in time to help after the wake."

**

By the time six-forty rolls around, Tyler feels restless and even more nervous about the evaluation. The seriousness of the situation, has started to take it's toll and he can barely pay attention to the magazine in his hands. For some reason, even the emptiness of the waiting room is unnerving; all he can hear is his own leg bouncing and the glossy paper crinkling in his grip.

He doesn't even notice the large double doors open.

A soft clear of a throat, interrupts his train of thought and Tyler looks up from the magazine, quickly closing and placing it back onto the side table.

"Tyler," the man says as he stumbles awkwardly towards the door. "Come in. You can have a seat on the couch." With it already being dark outside, the room is devoid of much light, giving the man's face sharper edges as he sits down in front of him. Tyler's not normally intimidated by anyone, but the guy just has one of those scowls that make you feel like a child thats done something wrong. Between that and the vaguely creepy ambiance, he can't help but to bite his lip as he looks around. "How are you doing this evening?"

"Oh. Good. Tired, just came from work."

Curious eyes study him for a minute. "I read in your file that you're a mortician. That's an interesting choice of occupation."

He tends to ramble when he's nervous, and can't help but do the same right now, "Yeah. It's great. Well, I mean, not great. It's difficult work in a lot of ways, but it's a family business and I'm used to it."

"You certainly must have an unique perspective on death; getting to experience it in a way that most people don't. Has that had any influence on your decision to apply to the program?"

"Not really." It's mostly an afterthought these days, so he doesn't quite know how to respond to the question, or what's the right thing to say. "I guess I'm a bit desensitized to it. Honestly, the part that affects you the most, is dealing with grieving families, who are sometimes going through the worst time in their lives."

The man has a notepad on his lap now and is looking down at it and writing something. "Do you think about how your own family would mourn? Has that made it harder for you to come to terms with your illness at all?"

It's not a question he expects so soon, so he's a little taken aback. "I think I've come to terms with it. I'm not scared to die. I can't really speak to how my parents will deal with it, but I know how strong they are, and I'd like to think they'd be okay."

A tissue is passed to him as he feels a couple of warm tears slide down his cheeks. "We can stop for a moment, if you need to."

"No, it's fine." Tyler wipes his eyes. "You can continue, doctor.

"Please, call me Randall. I know my method for these sessions can be a little intense, so do let me know if you need a break during it." The box of tissues are placed on the coffee table that's in-between them. "So if you're not scared, and have come to terms with it, as you say, what is your main motivation for seeking this alternative?"

"Life," he answers without hesitation. "I'm twenty-two. I don't exactly want to die. Acceptance and surrendering are very different things, and I'm not quite ready for the latter, yet." Randall continues writing, face impassive. Tyler has to wonder what other answers people could possibly give that they even ask that. Seems redundant.

"Are you okay with that life you'd be living, being completely different than the one you have now?"

"How so?" Tyler asks. "I know I wouldn't be able to go out during the day or eat food anymore. It hardly seems like an imposition compared." A muscle in Randall's jaw clenches, and Tyler immediately wants to back track. "Look... I'm sure it's a lot more complicated than that. I'm not so naive to think otherwise."

At that, the face in front of his, relaxes some. "Vampirism, while it comes with a few perks, also comes with a lot of hardships and responsibility. And while it's true that our lives are easier now than they were even just twenty years ago, there's still a lot of challenges that we face."

Tyler's heart starts racing as the words _our_ and _we_ , sink in. Suddenly, the night appointment makes a lot more sense. "Oh," and then a louder, "I can imagine."

"Tell me, Tyler, are you scared?"

"Of a lot of things," he answers. "Vampires aren't one of them. Why?"

"I heard your heart rate increase the moment you realized that I wasn't like you," Randall says smoothly, looking somewhat amused.

"How did you..." Tyler clicks his tongue and makes a gesture at one of his ears. "Right, the super hearing." He fights down a grimace. "I wasn't scared, just afraid that I maybe offended you."

The smirk thins, amusement fading. "It's okay. I know you didn't intend to. Now that you know what I am, and I know what you are, let's get back to it, shall we?"

Against better judgement, he can't help but ask, "And what am I?"

Randall's lips twitch upwards at the corners again. "Hopefully, temporarily ignorant."

Tyler's face heats up. "I completely walked into that one," he replies, lowly. "Sorry, yes, let's continue."

"Good." He flips to a new page. "After a few sessions with me, if you were to be selected for the final evaluation, you'd be expected to stay with the vampire who would be responsible for turning you and helping you acclimate afterwards. Is that something you would be comfortable with and prepared for?"

"I don't see why not?"

Randall's eyes glance up at him for a moment. "It would be just over two months total. The first week is the last assessment. Even though my judgement is never wrong, we still like to know how one acts in a more," he waves a dismissive hand, "natural environment. If all goes as expected, you'd be turned, and then would be there for an additional two months."

Tyler let's the information filter through him. Two months isn't so bad. He can handle that. If he had to predict what his life will be like at that time, anyway, it's not good either. "Because of work, I still live with my parents at the funeral home, so I'm used to living with other people. It won't be much different. The schedule wouldn't be the same, but it would still be work, eat, sleep."

"I'm afraid you're misunderstanding the arrangement; after you're turned, you will only be in the care of your sire. You can't be around anyone else during that time. It's a lot to process, I know, but it's just too dangerous to allow otherwise. Right after the change, senses are heightened ten fold, hunger, even higher than that. It just takes a while to adjust, and the taste for synthetic blood, is an acquired one; your instincts will fight you at first to not drink it."

He knows synthetic blood is what they survive off of now, but he didn't even think about the thirst for human blood, still being a normal thing. "Would I be in danger of hurting anyone? Even after the two months? Because if that's true, I don't want to ever take that chance."

"No, Tyler." Randall sets down the pen, placing it on top of the notepad. "That's why we are so careful of who we choose. We've worked tirelessly for equal rights and to build our reputation. One of many ways we do that, is through programs like this one, so it's imperative for there to be no...hiccups, so to speak." 

"I get it. Just wanted to make sure." Tyler looks over at him. "I've seen first-hand the aftermath of what people can do to each other, and the pain that it leaves in it's wake. I don't ever want to add to that."

Randall surprises him by smiling. "The fact that you even care enough to worry, or ask, speaks volumes about who you are." He picks the pen back up. "So, as for the temporary living arrangement?"

"I'd be okay with it."

"Great." He picks up a file from the coffee table and opens it. "Your application says you're single?"

"Currently, yes."

Randall's gaze lingers on him. "And if your current relationship status happens to stay the same, are you fine with that?"

Tyler stares at him back, considering. "Maybe." The only person he's ever been with moved out of state a few years ago for college. With school, and now work keeping him busy, he hasn't had much of an opportunity to date. "Is that something that's mandatory for this?" He enquires, lightly.

"No. Of course not. It's just others have found it difficult to maintain their current relationships, once they are turned. Trying to start new ones, proves even more of a challenge, so we like to make people aware of it. As I stated before, there are hardships that come with this life. That is just one of them."

"That makes sense." It's definitely not something he's thought about but he doesn't think it will be an issue. Still, the prospect of possibly never being able to be with anyone else again, is a weird one. "Can I ask why it's hard to have a relationship as a vampire?"

As though he expects the question, Randall doesn't even miss a beat, "Of course." He crosses one leg over the other and sits further back into the chair. "Imagine you meet someone you want to spend the rest of your life with. The problem with that, barring it's another vampire, is that you'll never be able to. You'll stay the same age you are when turned, and naturally they will get older and die." He makes a pained expression. "Everyone you know, or will come to know, will too."

"Well, if you're wanting to be with someone for the rest of your life, why not just turn them as well?"

"Ah," Randall answers, looking amused again. "And how would you approach that subject? After you've been dating a year? Five? Married ten? With your youth staying frozen in time, and theirs, gone. Are you okay never having children? Would they be? Besides, even if eternity together is what you both want, siring still has to be allowed by your local sector, and it's just as hard as this to get approval for."

The rest of the hour passes by faster than Tyler expects it to, and he's grateful for that; his foot has become well acquainted with his mouth. He's not at all sure of how it's went. Randall walks across the office and puts the notepad away. "I just have one last question for you," he says, leaning against the front of his desk. "What will you do if you don't get chosen?"

The question causes him to deflate a little. "I guess I would start the treatments. Try to get in as much time as I can helping my dad, while I'm still able to." He shrugs. "Beyond that, I don't know."

He pushes off of the desk and makes his way around to the chair behind it, before sitting down and starting to write something. "Not many people who come through here, manage to impress me. Even with what you're going through, you're level headed, unselfish, inquisitive and honest," he pauses, "almost to a fault. Usually I would want to see someone a few more times before I make my decision, but I don't think that will be necessary for you."

The unexpected praise, and implications of what was just said, has him gaping. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Randall holds a piece of paper out at him. Tyler stands up and walks towards the desk to grab it. He glances down at it and sees a phone number. "Yes. You're in."

He nearly drops the paper, and whips his head up. "Are you sure? This doesn't have to go through anyone else?"

"Do you want me to not be?" Randall raises an eyebrow and then smiles. "As the director of the Ohio branch for the program, as well, my say is final."

Lunging towards a vampire and hugging them, is probably not the best form of self-preservation, so he's glad shock is keeping him from doing that. "No. I'm...I don't know what to...Just thank you. Thank you so much."

"Here." Randall passes him another tissue. He didn't even realize that he's crying. "Go home, think it through. Make sure it's absolutely what you want. If you still do, then get your affairs in order and spend time with your family. I'll let Josh know to expect a call from you, one way or another. That's his number on the paper. Just in case, I'll send your file and paperwork over to him." Randall holds his hand out, and Tyler takes it. "It was a pleasure, Tyler."

**

Three days later, he's being driven to the outskirts of Columbus. In addition to only packing necessities he's been asked to not bring his car, but has been assured that he'll have transportation, if needed. His head rests against the car window, letting the last rays of light from the setting sun, hit his face. He'll be soaking up as much of that as he can for the next week. They are a mile down a long gravel road, when a house comes into view.

Right away, it isn't at all what Tyler is expecting.

It reminds him of his grandmother's house. Dull white siding lines the outside of it, and there's a covered front porch with a swing. He can already tell that sharing the small house with someone he doesn't know, is going to be an adjustment, and probably more than a little awkward. The driver, _Mark_ , he learns on the drive over, pulls up to the front of the house and lets the van idle while he gets out and goes around to open Tyler's door. "Thank you." The back is already open when he walks around to it. Without even prompting, Mark grabs two of his bags and starts towards the front door.

Tyler grabs the last one, and follows.

After the van pulls away, he's left alone at the door. Taking a deep breath, he raises a hand and knocks three times. It doesn't take but a few seconds for the door to open. The person standing in front of him, is just as much of a shock as the house is. "Sorry," Josh says, bending down to grab his bags. "I heard the car pull up but was trying to get dinner out of the oven."

Confused, and still a little stunned, Tyler simply nods and steps through the doorway. The inside is not what he pictured at all, either. The living room is outfitted with modern furniture and electronics, but a few touches makes it instantly feel inviting. He figures it's made to feel that way since other people have to stay there. He follows Josh down a short hallway and into a bedroom, where he places the bags onto the bed in there. "This is yours," he says in a clipped tone. "Bathroom is directly across the hall. Dinner will be ready in five."

Tyler looks around, and goes to say thank you, but Josh is already gone before he can. There's nothing remarkable to note about the room; it's pretty standard: bed, dresser and a closet. He turns the light off as he leaves out, wanting to get a better look of the living room. His eyes are immediately drawn to the fireplace mantel, where a long line of framed pictures, sits on top of it. They are all just of Josh and a different person in each one of them. He assumes by the look of them, they must have been the people he's sired before.

One thing stands out in all of them: Josh is smiling, bright, genuine, and beautiful.

Tyler leans his head away from the mantel, to catch a glimpse of Josh in the kitchen. There's a stark difference between his face now, and what he sees in the photographs. After making his way to the end, he walks across the living room, to the large bookshelf that's to the side of the couch. He loves to read, so the vast selection, makes him smile. Tyler almost let's out a surprised noise, when he comes across a few books that are not quite like the others.

They're erotic romance novels.

Curious, he pulls one off of the shelf. This one is titled _Dark Bonds and White Roses_. Tyler wants to roll his eyes as he turns to the middle of the book; he starts skimming the page, eyes stopping when he sees the sentence, _Afraid he'll come too quickly, he squeezes his eyes shut, his fangs digging into his bottom lip as James sinks down onto his cock, delicious heat encasing it._ "Holy shit," he whispers, flipping the book around to the front of it and finding the author's name. "You know your smut, J.D. William." Going back to the same spot again, he reads on; a blush barley has time to rise on his cheeks, when he sees a figure out the corner of his eye. Josh. He didn't even hear him. Caught, he slams the book closed and fumbles it back onto the shelf, clearing his throat. "It's a...I like books."

He feels like an idiot as he gestures to the bookcase. Josh's face is blank for a moment, and then he sees the ghost of a smile. "Your plate is on the table. Help yourself to whatever you want to drink, in the fridge."

They move past each other, and Tyler goes into the kitchen and straight to the refrigerator. He bypasses the bottles of blood on the top shelf, and reaches for a can of Pepsi. He hears the television turn on as he gets to the table. Peeking, he can see Josh sit down on the couch. He glances down at his plate and then back into the living room, before picking it up and making his way towards the couch. Tyler hopes he isn't being rude, but he's used to eating the same way with his parents. Josh looks over at him as he sits down. "Is this okay?"

Josh gives him a non-committal shrug and turns his attention back to the tv.

Except for the background noise from whatever show is on, it's mostly quiet as he starts digging in to the food on his plate. With everything going on, he forgot to take his anti-nausea medication, so he chews slowly as he looks back and forth from the show and Josh. The rest of the night goes about the same way. After finishing what he can of his dinner, they stay on the couch and watch tv. Josh doesn't seem to be in the mood to talk, and Tyler doesn't want to impose further, so they do it without a word between them.

Even through the silence, it isn't entirely uncomfortable.

When it gets late, Josh turns down his offer to help with the dishes, so Tyler just decides to go to bed. On the way to the bedroom, he stops in front of the bookshelf again, and finds himself grabbing the same one he was reading earlier, tucking it under his arm and feeling a little ashamed as he walks down the hallway. After using the bathroom and changing, he switches on the lamp that's next the bed, and pulls back the blanket before climbing in.

He turns to the first page and starts reading it, as his head sinks down onto the pillow.


	2. Chapter 2

The thrumming of rain on the roof, is what wakes him before his alarm, nose pressed into the pillow as he uncurls his arms from under it and pushes himself up. He exhales, sharply, disorientation taking over the feeling of being newly awake. As he sits up, the unfamiliar layout begins to take shape in the dark room; five more blinks, and he remembers that he isn't at home in his own bed.

As if on cue, there's a soft rapping on his door. "Breakfast will be ready soon."

"Yeah, okay," Tyler says, wiping the rest of the graininess from his eyes with his fingertips. "I'll be in there in a minute." When he gets back from the bathroom, he lifts his duffle from the top of the dresser, and tosses it onto the bed, unzipping and grabbing the leather toiletry bag from inside of it to get his medications. He pops a pill from one of them into the palm of his hand before setting the three bottles onto the nightstand and leaving out. The wall clock in the living room, says it's eight, as he passes it. Used to bright morning sunlight at this time, and the only source of light in the house being artificial, disorients him further.

An odd shudder makes it's way down his spine as he realizes that after the next few days, that will be his new normal.

There's already a glass of water waiting for him at the table, when he steps into the kitchen. "Good morning." He doesn't expect a reply, which is fine, because he doesn't get one. As he drains half of the glass, he considers that he's actually in the company of a caveman, not a vampire, and that they must have sent him to the wrong house. It takes a little bit of restraint not to say as much. "Can I help with anything?"

"Almost done," is the reply, and then to his surprise, "but thanks anyway."

Tyler pulls a chair from the table and sits down. Not long after, a plate is placed in front of him. "Thank you." He picks up his fork and stabs a piece of scrambled egg with it. Josh doesn't leave out of the kitchen, but instead grabs a mug from the microwave and then leans against the counter. The silence between them is reminiscent of the night before. Quiet, he's used to though.

The people he's around the most, can't talk. 

Half of the food on his plate is gone before a rustling catches his attention. Josh is digging in his pocket, stepping forward and placing a key next to him at the table. "House key," he says, turning on the sink and rinsing his cup.

Tyler picks it up and slips it into the pocket of his pajama pants. "On the phone, you said I'd have a ride to work and stuff this week?"

Josh points to the refrigerator. "Mark, from yesterday, his number's on there. He'll take you anywhere you need to go. I'm about to go to bed, and usually sleep till four, but if you need anything, I'm in the last room on the right." He pins him with a firm look. "I'd advise to knock, and not enter unless specifically told that you can." With that, he's gone from the kitchen, leaving Tyler to shift in his chair and wonder what the hell that was about.

The vague warning, wakes him up better than any caffeine has ever done, though.

After his shower, he gets dressed and goes outside. It already stopped raining, and he has twenty minutes to waste, before Mark gets there. Stepping down from the porch stairs, he follows a narrow foot-worn path around to the side of the house. He didn't see it yesterday, but there is an old blue pickup truck parked there, the back of it filled with empty flower pots of various sizes, and bags of soil. He continues walking past it and towards the back yard.

The sight he comes upon, also parallels his grandmother's house.

Vibrant landscaping, decorates the back of it; from small green trees, to bushes of roses and different kinds of flowers. Gardening has always been a hobby of hers, but he wouldn't have guessed that Josh has a green thumb as well. He's quickly learning that he can't assume anything about his temporary roommate. He gets his fill of the floral scents, and goes to walk back to the front, but sees a trail off to the side. This one looks like it's been made by tire tracks. The land behind the yard is just rolling hills as far as he can see, so he can't tell where it leads to.

Eventually the trail comes to a particularly steep slope, and with the wet ground, he doesn't have the footing to continue, so he stops and turns back.

He ends up on the porch again, spending the rest of the time sitting on the swing until Mark pulls up. He gets out of the van and greets him at the open passenger door, "Good morning."

"Morning," Tyler replies, slipping into the seat as the door closes next to him. The guy seems nice enough, but he's going to have to get used to someone chauffeuring him around. Though he understands the security reasons behind it, having his usual freedom would make the stay a lot easier. 

Mark puts the van into reverse. "How are you enjoying it here?"

"It's fine. It's peaceful."

He glances at him before starting down the gravel road, and smiles. "You seem quieter than yesterday. Josh must have already given you the bedroom threat talk."

"Yep," Tyler says. "What was that all about anyway?"

"Spooking a sleeping vampire, probably isn't a good idea," Mark explains. "You're not in danger, don't worry; it's just a precaution."

"He couldn't just lead with that, apparently," Tyler mutters as he watches the trees, they're passing, sway in the wind. It looks like it's going to start raining again soon.

Mark laughs, a light chuckle, and takes a sip of the coffee in the cup holder. "Josh isn't so bad. He just likes to play up the old broody vampire act the first week." He places the cup back down. "Not to blow up his spot or anything, but he does like to talk; just needs a little push sometimes 'cause he's used to being alone a lot, you know."

Tyler absorbs that, understands it. "Have you known him for long?"

"Five years." His grip tightens on the steering wheel. "My mom was the first person he turned for the program. Liver cancer. Prognosis was less than three months. Needless to say, I owe him everything."

"So that's how you got into this?"

"Mhm." Mark nods. "I work from home and have the time. He only takes on two patients a year, but I also get stuff he needs that can't be picked up at night."

They continue talking until they arrive outside of the funeral home. It's raining again, and Tyler doesn't have an umbrella, so he gets soaked on the way inside. His mother is coming out of the office, while he's wiping his shoes on the mat by the front door. "Hey," she says, looking him over. "You'll need to go change. Have a residential pick-up scheduled for ten."

He says, "Okay," and heads to the stairs that lead to the second floor, where their living space is. Each step, is one of dread. Picking up bodies, in hospice care, is one the saddest parts of the job to him.

When they get there, he loosens his tie a little. It's an outfit he's worn many times, but right now, the shirt feels like it's three times too small; the thin black fabric around his neck, like it's cutting off each breath that tries to fill his lungs. The funeral plans were already set in place by the family, so he knows exactly where they are, who it is, and what took their life.

It's the first time he'll come face to face, since his own diagnosis, with a victim of the same fate that once was his.

The living room is full of people when they walk inside. Even before coming on officially, these calls were ones he's accompanied his father on countless times before. But today, the choked sobs are making him feel like he's drowning, and he wishes he couldn't hear them over the blood buzzing through his ears. They greet the family members as they wait for the hospice nurse to meet them in there with the paperwork, before they can make their way to the bedroom to assess the layout. They need to get the gurney in and out with as little of a disturbance as possible.

They end up moving a few pieces of furniture on the trek back to the van to retrieve it.

He avoided looking the first time they were in the bedroom, but as they are wrapping the body in a white sheet, he now has no choice. Keeping his face professional, he doesn't let it affect him, on the outside.

But inside, is a very different picture.

Before the straps are even buckled, he's shaking, can feel his breathing picking up. Chris leans close to his ear. "Are you okay?" Tyler nods and inhales through his nose, steadying himself, determined to not have a panic attack at the most inappropriate time imaginable. After loading the body into the back, they leave. A few miles down the road, Chris looks at him. "I can prepare him, if it's too difficult for you."

Tyler considers it, honestly doesn't know if he can do it himself; he's still new and fresh-faced, by all means, but he can deal with the harder ones. This just hits too close to home at the moment. "If you don't mind, then yes, please."

**

It's not home, not by a long shot, but Tyler feels relieved when he gets back to Josh's that night. Josh has his work schedule, so it doesn't surprise him when he steps through the door and already smells something cooking. He walks to the kitchen and leans against the half wall that's separating it from the living room, and just watches him for a few minutes until he's noticed. "It will be ready soon."

Tyler walks closer. "I really appreciate it, but you don't have to cook for me. I'm fine doing it myself or just making a sandwich or something."

"I don't mind." Josh opens the oven and pulls a pan of broccoli out of it. "I enjoy cooking, and only get to do it fourteen days a year." He glances at Tyler, and it's as if he realizes his tough guy facade slipped. He hardens his expression and turns back to the stove.

He wants to, but he doesn't smirk, just grabs a bottle of water from the refrigerator and sits down. Once his dinner is in front of him, Josh goes to leave out. Taking what Mark said in regard about him needing a push, Tyler stops him. "Do you mind sitting with me? I just had a bad day at work and don't want to eat by myself." It's not a lie. Being alone in his head, is the last thing he wants right now. Josh sits down in the chair across from him. He figures simple subjects are his best bet, so that's what he starts with, "So, what do you do for a living, you know, when you're not doing this?"

Josh's nails suddenly become very interesting, and he hesitates for a moment. "I'm a writer."

Another thing he doesn't expect. Tyler finishes chewing. "Anything I've heard of?"

That seems to cause him to almost smile, but he catches himself. "Nah."

It's a weird reaction, but Tyler just nods and eats another bite while trying to think of something else they can talk about. "I took a walk around the property a little this morning. It's really beautiful here."

"Yeah," Josh says. "It is."

He looks more relaxed by the change of direction the conversation takes, so Tyler continues, "I saw a path that went beyond the back yard. Does it go anywhere?"

"A pond," Josh answers. "It's small but good enough to blow off steam in if you're feeling restless."

"You swim in it in the dark?" Josh raises an eyebrow and has a look of _obviously_ , on his face. Tyler feels stupid. "I just meant, how do you see anything? That would freak me out not knowing what I'm touching or what's in there."

"The moon is a thing." The eyebrow lowers. "Between that and the enhanced night vision, visibility isn't an issue." He smiles, wide, with a little too much teeth. "And there's nothing in that water more dangerous than me to worry about, anyway."

There's no holding back the sound that comes out of his mouth. It's an honest to god belly laugh; he can't remember the last time that's happened. "Sorry. It's just...Nevermind." He goes back to eating, thinking that telling Josh he looked a little maniacal when he said that, probably won't win him any points. After that, it lapses back into silence for a few minutes. It's not that he doesn't know what to say; he has tons of questions he wants to ask, but he doesn't feel as comfortable doing so like he did with Randall. "I like Mark, a lot. He's really cool." Josh nods in agreement. "He actually reminds me a little of my ex boyfriend from high school. Just the sense of humor, I think."

Something shifts. Josh's face, and his entire demeanor, changes as he sits up straighter and stares at him. He looks like he wants to say something. What it is, Tyler has no clue. Instead, he abruptly pushes his chair away from the table, it making a scraping noise against the wood floor. "A show I watch is starting soon." The quick exit is strange, but now he's hearing the television turn on, so can only assume that is really the cause of it.

The long shower he takes after supper, relaxes him the most he's felt the whole day. Josh is still on the couch when he gets out. There's a nip in the air, so he grabs the blanket from his bed, before joining him. When he does, Josh stands. Tyler guesses that he's going to pull another disappearing act, but he just walks into the hallway and then comes back. "Sorry. I put on the heat. I can't really feel it, so didn't realize how cold it is in here." 

"It's fine." He brings his feet onto the couch and tucks them under himself. "I work in a morgue; I'm used to the cold." Just the mention of work, brings back the tension in his shoulders, so he's happy when Josh just then presses play on the dvr.

Tyler settles in for another quiet night of television.

**

They fall into a routine over the next two days: sleep, eat while Josh joins him for increasingly less awkward one on one time, go to work, tv before bed. Tyler isn't used to being away from home yet, but having somewhere to wind down and escape from the anxiety his job has been creating lately, has been a welcome thing.

Especially after days like the one he's currently having.

One of the viewing rooms is filled with family, friends, and grief. It's the night of the wake for the man they picked up a few days ago. Tyler usually stands in the back with his father after helping to seat mourners; it's what they do there, a show of support, of extended care. Fifteen minutes in, he can't take it anymore. "I need to go," he tells Chris, quietly, and then makes a swift exit, immediately texting Mark.

He isn't the one that shows up to get him, though, it's Josh.

Mark didn't think he had to pick him up for another hour, so he's at the movies right now. He offered to leave, but Tyler told him to stay, that he'll ask Josh. He gets into the truck, closes the door, and then starts turning the handle to roll down the manual window. Inside the funeral home was stuffy and suffocating; the cool night air rushing in while they pull off onto the road, has him already feeling better as he takes in deep breaths of it. 

"Everything fine?" Comes from the side of him and all he can do is lie. Lie and nod his head that he is. He's always been someone that wears his emotions for the whole world to see, so the deceit doesn't hold up for the entire ride. Once they turn on to the road leading to Josh's house, he peers over at him. "I don't know how you do it. I've seen a lot of death in my life, but I couldn't be around it every day."

They haven't talked about anything other than superficial things, so he's not sure if he should say anything. Josh seems to be giving him a chance to, though. "I usually can handle it a lot better, but I just haven't been able to the past few days. I look at these people and I ask myself, why am I still here, but they aren't? What makes my life more worthy to continue on, but theirs wasn't? I just feel guilty, in a way, and can't help but feel bad for them."

Except for the sound of gravel under the tires, and the whistling of the wind still coming in through the crack in the window, it's quiet. The truck pulls up to the side of the house and he kills the engine. Tyler is rolling up his window, but notices that Josh isn't making a move to get out, so he doesn't either. "If you let it, guilt can become a disease," he starts saying. "It will infect every inch of you, poison your thoughts, contaminate dreams...keep spreading until there's nothing left to kill." He pulls the keys out of the ignition, and then opens his door. "Don't pity the dead; it isn't a burden you want to bear. Trust me, I know."

Deep down, there's a part of Tyler that knows that what he's saying is true, that it's something he doesn't need to hang on to. As much as he wishes it were the case, he can't change anyone's circumstances.

He was barely responsible for changing his own.

Josh let's him know that his dinner is covered and in the microwave for whenever he's ready to eat it. He doesn't have an appetite, and just goes to his bedroom after his shower, curling up under the covers with the same book he's been reading since he got there. It's not the typical genre he likes these days, but he's halfway finished with it and is completely sucked in.

It's better than most of the Harry Potter fanfiction he used to read a few years ago.

A couple of hours later, he wants to groan when there's a knock on the door; he's just getting to the part in the book that's always his favorite: when they finally realize they're in love. He saves the page he's on with the makeshift bookmark he's been using, and places the book on the bed next to him. "Come in." Josh cracks the door and then nudges it the rest of the way open with his foot. He has a bed tray in his hands with a plate and glass on it. Tyler sits up against the headboard. "What's this?" He asks, as the tray is being balanced over his lap.

"Food," Josh answers, picking up each of his prescriptions that are on the nightstand. He places one of the bottles onto the tray. "You need to eat with this one."

"How did you know that?"

"I've had enough people and their medications in this house to know that's the case sometimes. You should keep up your strength, anyway," He adds, looking away. "Do you want me to stay?"

"No, I...Thanks but I'm okay." He picks the book back up. "Just going to read while I eat, and then go to sleep."

Josh's eyes shoot to the book, narrow, and then go back at the door, all while avoiding his face. "Right, well, I'll leave you to it then."

"Okay, goodnight." Tyler watches him leave, with a bemused grin, as he shakes his head lightly and picks up his fork.

**

Work is a lot more tolerable. It's probably just because it was his last shift for the next two months; he's taking off the following day, wanting to spend it outside, and as free as he can be. Josh let him know at breakfast that he passed the final evaluation, so Randall will be going there the next night. Tyler has to sign a few final documents, and then he'll be overseeing the turning.

It's protocol.

Mark is just pulling up to Josh's, to drop him off. "Hey," he says, as Tyler is opening the door. "You can say no if you're too tired, but do you want to go have dinner tonight? Maybe go to a club, after? Get laid while you can or something."

One night stands aren't really his thing, but it's been a long time since he's been out at all, and it might be fun. "Yeah, that's cool. I need to shower and stuff first."

"I have to get ready too. I'll just pick you up in an hour?"

"Sounds good," he says, getting out. He's supposed to be having leftovers, so when he gets inside, Josh isn't in the kitchen like usual. He doesn't see him anywhere as he moves through the house, towards the his bedroom. Both Josh's door and the bathroom, are open. He saw his truck home when he got there, so he's curious. He goes into the kitchen and moves the curtain to the side, to peek out of the back door. An outside light is on, so he opens it. Josh is on his knees, in front of one of the plants, and he's got a few of the flower pots next to him. "Mind if I sit?" Tyler asks, after walking up to where he is.

Josh shrugs, shovel digging into the dirt.

As he sits on the ground, next to him, he notices the shrub is being dug up, instead of planted. "Are you moving this one?"

"Yeah. Well, transplanting them all to pots and then they're being given to someone I know."

He doesn't want to pry, or be nosy, but the fact that he's doing that is too unusual for him not to ask about it. "Why?"

"I'll be moving in two months, to California, and I won't have the space for them there." He pulls the plant up and places it into one of the pots. "I'm selling this place, but I don't trust just anyone to make sure they don't die. Probably seems trivial," he says, picking up the large sack of soil, like it weighs nothing, "but some of these were given to me, so they mean a lot."

"That makes sense." The amount of care is endearing, and he spends the next few minutes looking at Josh while he works on the next plant, digging it up and getting it into the pot. This one is taller than the last, has these pretty red flowers that he doesn't recognize, all over it. "What are these called?" He asks, leaning forward to run his fingertips gently over the crimson petals.

"They're Camellias. My favorite."

He tries to smell one but it has no scent. "They're gorgeous. I can see why." Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Josh looking at him.

"I like the meanings behind flowers, more than the normal aesthetic appeal, I think." Tyler notices that his voice has taken on a softer tone. "Red Camellias mean love and desire, but in general, they represent the union between two lovers." He gestures for him to come closer, as he takes off one of the gardening gloves and cradles a flower in his hand. "It's said that the petals represent one person, and the calyx, which is this," he points to the green part under the red, "represents the other person; it's what holds the petals together, and when the flower dies, instead of staying attached to the stem, like other types do, the calyx falls away with it."

Tyler finds himself smiling, enamored, as he looks back and forth between Josh and the flower, something warm, unexplainable, spreading through his chest.

"Which is why they also mean: long lasting love or devotion." He let's go of the flower and pulls the other glove off.

"Now I'm kind of picturing this whole romantic blowing away together like dust in the wind sort of thing." Something close to a snort comes from Josh as he stands and picks the pot up. "What?" Tyler gets up and follows him to where the other ones he's already done are.

"Nothing." Josh looks amused though as he points his foot towards a pot. "Do you mind helping me get these into the back of the truck?"

"Sure." He manages to not lose his balance as he picks it up; that's one thing that has been getting worse lately. It's a strange thought, but great, to know that it won't be an issue very soon. There are only six plants, so they're able to load them up quickly. "Do you need help with anything else?"

"This is it for now," Josh says, closing the tailgate. "These are the only ones that do well being planted at this time of the year. Some will have to stay in pots, inside, for the winter, so no point in doing them yet."

"Okay." He tosses the small shovel into the back. "I need to go get ready anyway."

**

Three hours, a huge greasy hamburger, chili cheese fries, and one medium chocolate milkshake later, Tyler's still full, as shitty house music blares into his ears at the club. It's a Friday night, so it's packed shoulder to shoulder. They weren't able to get a table, but he wishes they could have; would have been easier to dodge the advances from the handsy girl that's all over him right now. Mark is currently grinding on her friend. It's not the first time he's done the wing man thing, but it would be easier if he could at least drink.

Or if the girl was actually a guy.

He sips his soft drink as her mouth touches his neck. When he feels suction, he moves his arm between them. It takes him a few tries before he's able to lightly push her away. "Woah. Slow down, okay?"

"What?" The girl slurs out before saddling up against him again. "You're not having fun?"

When Mark looks over, Tyler throws him a desperate look. He just gets a smile and thumbs up in return. Rolling his eyes, he keeps the arm in-between them. "Just tired," he yells over the music.

"Well we can go back to my place right now. Looks like my roommate won't be home for the night."

"Yeah, no." He sidesteps out of her grasp. He considers himself a very patient person, but even he has his limits. "I'm busy tomorrow and need sleep."

He almost can't believe it when she keeps trying to kiss him, not taking the hint. "Work or something?"

"No. Being turned into a vampire," he deadpans, watching her hands fly off of him like he's just told her that he murders puppies for fun.

He breathes, feeling relieved when she walks away. Tyler starts pushing through the crowd to where Mark is, and taps his shoulder. "I'm gonna get out of here. I'm not feeling it."

"Okay, just give me a minute and we'll head out."

"Nah. I'm just going to call an Uber."

Mark smiles. "Can't. No one else besides me is allowed to go to the house."

Tyler feels bad. Mark's having a good time and he doesn't want him to have to leave because of him. "What if I get them to drop me off at the beginning of the gravel road?" 

"That might be fine." Mark presses a finger into the front of his jacket and gives him a serious look. "Just to the beginning, and don't tell Josh." 

"Alright, man." He smiles and pulls out his phone. "Have fun. I'll catch you on the flip side."

"I'll text you!" Mark calls after him as he walks away. 

He feels headachy and exhausted when he walks through the door, forty minutes later. "Remind me to never do that again," he says, passing Josh, on the way to grab water from the kitchen. Sighing, he plops down next to him on the couch and cracks the top open.

Josh looks up from his book. "That bad?"

"Understatement." He sets the bottle down and starts pulling his shoes off.

There's a look of distaste and sympathy on his face. "Vampire clubs aren't any better."

"I didn't even know those exist." Tyler puts the cold bottle against his forehead. "Don't think I've seen one around here."

"They do. It's just not really advertised, though." Josh closes his book and sets it down. "What's wrong?"

Tyler sees that he's looking at his head, where the water bottle still is. "Just a headache. The music was really loud." He follows Josh's gaze from his forehead, down to the right side of his neck, where his eyes stay at for a minute before flicking to his. Without a word, he breaks the eye contact, stands up, and leaves out of the living room.

He's not sure if sudden departures are a quirk of his, or if it's just a Tyler only related reaction.

When he's brushing his teeth, a few minutes later, is how he sees it. He spits out the toothpaste, and he grimaces as he steps closer to the mirror, tilting his head to the left. The girl left a hickey between his neck and collarbone.

One upside of fast healing, is it should be gone, sooner than normal at least.

Tyler rinses and turns off the light, before going to the bedroom. Even with how tired he is, he's not sure if he'll even sleep much, being full of this amount of nervous energy. It's a good nervous. At least he thinks it is. A charged feeling of anticipation of what's to come.

He doesn't know what to expect, but he knows he'll be okay.

**

After breakfast, he talks Josh into letting him have the keys to his truck, so he can go sit by the pond for a while. With the promise to not go anywhere else, the keys are reluctantly handed over to him, along with directions: which just consists of being told to follow the path all the way.

It only takes around five minutes for him to get there.

He parks the truck near the dock, and grabs his white hoodie out of the passenger seat, pulling it over his head when he gets out. The pond is a lot bigger than Josh made it out to be. The far side of it is surrounded by large trees, some of them still a rich shade of green. He sits down, taking it all in, at least glad that he gets to experience it once in the daytime. His knees are pulled to his chest, arms wrapped around them. With his head titled back, his eyes close, and he just listens, letting himself slowly be lulled by the soft sounds of birds, and the wind whipping through the trees.

The sun is warm against his face.

Thoughts of if this will be something he consistently longs for, after today, chip away at his freshly built wall of relaxation. He wonders if vampires just easily accept it and move on, after trading the light for the dark. Even if so, he still wouldn't mind remembering what it looks like out there right now. His legs fall, hitting the wood planks beneath them as he grabs the phone from his pocket, unlocks it, and snaps a few pictures. 

Somehow, he ends up falling asleep at one point, and wakes up a couple of hours later, stiff from the hard surface he was laying on. Lunch is eaten on the front porch, and he finds Josh already awake and in the kitchen, when he goes back in. He's bent down inside of the refrigerator, getting a bottle of blood. "Hey," Tyler says, putting his plate in the sink. "Can't sleep?"

"Something like that." Josh twists the top off of the bottle and sniffs the liquid.

"Is it bad?"

"No," Josh answers. "I opened this one yesterday morning, but didn't end up drinking it." He pours it into a mug. "It can get a little iffy if it goes over a day."

Curious about his soon to be drink of choice, he moves closer. "How does it smell?"

Josh holds the mug out to him, and he dips his face down, taking a tentative whiff of it. It smells exactly like blood, maybe with a plastic undertone as well. "It taste like the real thing?" The cup is handed to him, as if it's an offer for him to find out, himself. Tyler resists scrunching his nose as he hands it back. "I can wait."

"I assume my truck is back in one piece." The buttons on the microwave beep as they're being pressed. 

Tyler smiles. "You know what they say about assuming."

Josh shakes his head and turns around, hands planted behind him on the edges of the counter top. "Your file didn't mention your _wit_."

"I'm sure it left out a bunch of my qualities," Tyler says. "Good and bad."

"Indeed." There's a smirk shot his way before Josh opens the microwave and takes the cup out. "So how was the pond?"

"It was nice. Quiet. Took a nap out there. Took some pictures." At that, Josh looks at him with his eyebrows arched, and Tyler takes it as interest to see them, so he grabs his phone off of the table. "I mostly got the trees and stuff. Their leaves are still in the middle of turning, so it was pretty." He stands at the counter to the side of him and starts swiping through them.

Josh walks away when they finish. "So that's what those big things are. Good to know. I could never see them before." Tyler wants to glare at the back of his head, but Josh is smiling when he turns around by the table, before sitting down. "Wasn't a good idea to nap out there though. A lot of snakes around."

"Oh." The smile he gives back to him is fleeting, as he takes a seat next to him. His anxiety is starting to pick up again; Randall will be there in just a few hours. "So, uh, what exactly is gonna happen tonight?"

Josh's interest seems to pique at the question, and he's now looking his way. "Everything will be explained before, but in short, after the papers are signed, we'll go to my bedroom and lay down on the bed, where you'll be turned, and then you will be staying in there with me. The transition is hard on the body, so you'll mostly sleep and drink for the first few days. About it."

A few emotions are hitting him at once. He didn't realize what kind of state he will be in. For some reason his brain cooked up images of him being turned, and everything being pretty much the same, but with a few obvious changes. Not wanting to psych himself out too much, he doesn't entertain the other nagging thoughts that are running through his head.

**

At seven-ten, on the dot, there's a knock at the door.

Tyler turns his head from the spot he's at on the couch, and watches Josh open it. Randall sets down his briefcase and draws him into an enthusiastic embrace, pounding him on the back. "It's been a while." He pulls back and smiles at Josh, holding him by the shoulders for a moment. "You have to come by for dinner before you leave." He let's go. "Annette will insist." Tyler stands up and moves around the couch, Randall capturing his hand when he gets close enough to grab it. "It's nice to see you again, Tyler."

Josh motions for them to follow him to the kitchen. "We can do this at the table."

The briefcase is placed on it and opened as everyone sits down. "This one is just a consent form. It explains, in exact detail, what will take place. Read over it and sign." Another paper is placed next to that one. "This is a confidentiality agreement, stating that you can't talk about what happened during the application process, the assessment, and your time here. Just the evaluation part, though," he adds, grabbing one more paper before handing him a pen. "And the last, you'll just need to confirm that the information about you on it is correct, and then sign. That is your registration form that I'll be turning in for you to our sector here in Columbus."

Tyler reads through and signs everything, handing them back after. They get checked over and put into the briefcase. "Is that it?"

"Unless you have any questions, then yes." Taking a deep breath, he shakes his head, no. "Alright. I'll be in Josh's bedroom, for whenever you're ready." He stands up from the table, giving Josh a quick pat on the shoulder and then walks out.

"Have you already called your parents?" Josh asks, standing up too.

"Yeah." Tyler's voice is scratchy, and he gets up to follow him. "I talked to them after I got out of the shower."

"Good. You'll be leaving your phone in your bedroom. If you have a password on it, remove it, and I'll periodically keep them updated on how you're doing, if you'd like me to?"

"Please. That would be great."

He puts his phone on the dresser in the bedroom. He's already wearing something comfortable like Josh suggested, so he leaves right back out. When he walks into Josh's room, he's pulling the blanket down to the edge of the bed, and Randall is sitting in a chair just to the side of it. "Do I just lay down?"

"Yes. In the middle of the bed, is good," Josh says, sitting down and taking his shoes off.

Tyler's trembling, inching closer. The consent form he had to sign, read like a judge handing down a death penalty sentence; being told that his carotid artery is going to be punctured and then he'll be drained, didn't exactly comfort him. He's not clueless. Tyler's aware of the basics, but it's like he's viewing it as now being real, for the first time.

He's laying on his right side, when Josh joins him in the same position, a foot away. "It's best to either lay chest to chest for this, or to lay with your back against my chest. Whatever your personal preference is."

The feeling of vulnerability and helplessness, will be present no matter what, so he chooses to lay back to chest. Before he turns over, he wants to take a look at what will be going into him. Unlike not seeing a needle from a shot, or one that's about to draw blood, this is going to hurt, badly, anyway. Josh's face is blank as he asks if he can see his fangs, but he nods his head and opens his mouth. They descend down from his gums so quickly, that Tyler almost misses it. "Can I?" He asks, slowly moving a hand towards Josh's mouth. He doesn't get a no, so proceeds.

Josh's gaze on him is intense as his fingertip touches the end of one of them.

It's sharp, could slice his finger if he presses too hard. He moves his hand away, and looks up, scanning the face in front of him. He expects Josh to look intimidating like this, but he doesn't. There's a gleam of something in his eyes as he stares right back at Tyler. After a moment, Josh clears his throat and looks away. "Are you ready?"

"Sure." Tyler shifts onto his left side. Josh's hand moves to his hip as he scoots flush against him. The room is only lit up with a mellow light coming from a lamp by the other side of the bed, so Tyler didn't notice before that there is a vase of yellow flowers on the nightstand in front of him. He tries to focus on them, and not on his nerves. "What kind are those?"

"Daffodils."

"I assume they have a meaning too?"

A huff against his neck. "They symbolize rebirth and new beginnings."

"That's nice," he says. "Appropriate."

"Yeah." Josh's other hand lays flat against his head, and he presses down, tilting Tyler's neck upward.

His breath catches, eyes closing when he feels the first touch of teeth. They fly back open as the skin starts breaking, a searing pain causing him to cry out, and on instinct, try to pull away. The grip on his hip gets harder, and the latch on his neck, tighter. The pain doesn't lessen much when the teeth retract, and a strong suction replaces them. He's slowly becoming nauseous.

Can feel the blood leaving his body one gulp at a time.

When everything starts to get fuzzy around the edges, minutes later, the pain stops with his adrenaline spiking. His chest is falling and rising rapidly. Heart, pounding. He's panicked, aware, not drifting off like he imagined would happen.

"Joshua, that's enough. Do you not hear the tachycardia?"

The mouth pulls away from his neck, and then a few seconds later, Josh's wrist is pressing against Tyler's lips. "Drink." Groaning, he shakes his head. The blood feels thick against his mouth. "Tyler." It's not a request. Hesitantly, he parts them and then weakly curls his lips over the skin. The metallic flavored liquid starts filling his mouth, some spilling over and running down his chin as he struggles to get it down. "Good. You're doing great," Josh says, softly.

Soon, the wrist is gone and he can vaguely hear someone walk closer to the bed, and then feels the blanket being pulled over them. "I'm leaving. Call me if you need anything." Josh nods behind him and then secures an arm around his waist. Tyler's panting, cold, dizzy, eyes on the Daffodils.

Yellow is the last thing he sees before everything fades to black.


End file.
